


Exsecror

by ghostheart



Series: Renascentia [3]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Codependency, F/F, Pre-Game(s), Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 08:15:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11870271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostheart/pseuds/ghostheart
Summary: Deep wells must be dug if you want clear waters, but deep waters don’t stand still.





	Exsecror

**Author's Note:**

> this was initially going to be the last of my pre-game series but then i had another idea so be on the lookout for that. i was extremely busy finishing my first year of grad school which explains the long gap between this and the previous piece in the series. i hope to be posting more regularly from now on! fair warning — the explicit rating is there for a reason. sex happens.
> 
> some brief notes: the girls’ school mentioned here is real, but the dormitories are a fabrication for the sake of convenience; the real school doesn’t have them. in-line lyrics are from rosenrot by rammstein.

_“she wants it, and that’s fine_  
_so it was and so it will always be_  
_she wants it, and that’s the tradition:_  
_whatever she wants, she gets.”_

※

Kaede Akamatsu has heard the name of the family she serves far more than her own.

Despite her mother’s objections given their social standing, the master of the house refers to them by first name — far more often, however, he simply says “you.”

This is the only family she knows, but it’s not hers; this is the house she knows, but it’s not hers.

She allows this thought to ferment in the dark cellar at the back of her mind as she ascends the spiral staircase to the second floor. Her lady has always insisted on her privacy and has had her room in the furthest corner of the house as far back as Kaede can remember.  


She stands upright and perfects her posture as she carries a tray toward her lady’s room. She lightly raps her knuckles against the door.

“Come in,” calls a soft voice.

Kaede shifts the tray to her other hand and opens the door before replacing both hands on the tray. She summons her most obliging smile and approaches the table.

Even after so many years, she can’t quite grasp the opulence of her lady’s room with its lush red velvet accents and rich mahogany furniture. The crystal chandelier ties it together — a sharp underscore of wealth.

“Good morning,” Kaede greets. “How are you today, Toujou-sama?”

※

There is a memory that has ebbed and flowed in Kaede’s consciousness throughout the years.

At eleven years old, after seeing the only Toujou daughter off to bed, Kaede went to the room she shared with her mother and dejectedly looked down at the floor.

“I don’t like being a servant, Mother.”

Situated at the desk, her mother looked up from her book, eyes widening in concern.

“Why, Kaede, our family has been with the Toujous for generations,” her mother explained, brow creased in seriousness. “But — ‘servant’ is such a harsh word in this day and age. Even Toujou-sama doesn’t prefer it. It’s best to think of yourself as a companion for the young mistress.”

Kaede chose to ignore the obviously erroneous nature of using a word such as “companion.”

“I don’t understand. No one else lives like us.”

Her mother told her the story of how Fumihiro Toujou — the great-grandfather of Kirumi Toujou — toured Europe to promote his pianos and grew enamored by the European wealthy’s propensity for hired help. So much so, in fact, that he asked his housecleaner, Kanae Akamatsu — the great-grandmother of Kaede Akamatsu — to move into the Toujou residence and become a live-in maid.

“It was a rather ostentatious display of wealth here in Japan,” her mother said with a wry smile. “But I think it was a wonderful thing to have done for us. I imagine we’ll stay with the Toujous for many more generations to come.”

Kaede flashed her best subservient smile.

※

“And that’s how one performs a differentiation to find the derivative,” the instructor states as she finishes scrawling across the chalkboard. The woman — older, austere — turns around to appraise their understanding, appearing visibly perturbed at Kirumi’s confusion. Kaede purses her lips for a brief moment; she has no choice but to salvage the situation.

She leans into Kirumi’s desk (close enough that the scent of her sophisticated perfume, jasmine and waterlily, assails her senses).

“The derivative is just a way to see how the output changes according to the input. This is how it’s expressed mathematically, and here’s an example of how to perform a simple differentiation,” Kaede explains, pointing to each step in Kirumi’s textbook accordingly.

“Akamatsu-san is right.” The teacher can’t conceal a hint of disappointment in Kirumi’s ostensible inability to grasp a simple concept.

“Right,” Kirumi mutters, covertly glaring daggers at the instructor. The same venom isn’t present when she looks to Kaede. “Thank you.”

The tips of Kaede’s ears feel hot as she averts her gaze toward the desk and exerts an impossible amount of effort to keep her hands flat on her lap.

※

Kaede turns the last page of the sonata as Kirumi’s fingers, lissome and fluid, glide over the keys. Her eyebrows are knit in solemnity, lips pursed in concentration. The tension lifts from her features as the sonata comes to an end. As always, there’s a period of silence wherein Kirumi sighs and looks to Kaede for her customary commentary.

“You get better every time. It’s the truth,” Kaede offers with (what she hopes is) genuine admiration.

“Thank you, Kaede-chan.” Kirumi frowns and touches a finger to her lips. “I think that’s enough practice for today. Let’s pack it up, shall we?”

“Understood.”

Kaede plucks the composition from its place on the music rack and closes the fallboard as Kirumi rises to her feet. She peers at the grandfather clock situated across the room; it’s nearly time for dinner, much to her surprise. She never seems to notice the passage of time — nor her hunger — when they’re here in the piano room.

“I’m going to go back to my room for a bit,” Kirumi announces as she approaches the doorway.

Kaede’s breath hitches in her throat — an impulse she had been long staving off bubbles to the surface, exploding before she can force it back down.

“Toujou-sama,” Kaede begins nervously, “I want to do something with my appearance, but I wanted to get your permission first.”

Kirumi turns to look at her, blinking with momentary surprise before her manners set in. “What did you want to do?”

Kirumi looks at her with such kindness, such invitation, that Kaede must double down on her efforts to maintain her posture.

“I would like to bleach my hair,” Kaede proclaims.

“That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“Good!” Kirumi chirps, hazel eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. “I think you should do it. You’d look wonderful.”

Kaede’s heart skips a beat. She clears her throat. “I’m so glad to hear that, Toujou-sama.”

“I’ll call the hairdresser so we can have it done toward the end of this week.”

She flashes a smile before sauntering off to her room.

Kaede’s hands shake as she deposits the composition back onto the bookshelf.

※

“The hairdresser will be here on Friday,” Kirumi informs as they have tea after dinner in the living room. “Are you excited?”

“Of course, my lady.”

Kirumi hums to herself as she absentmindedly stirs her spoon around in her teacup. Kaede stares at out the three wide windows facing the garden. Snow drifts gently down to earth — they’ve reached the apex of December with Christmas swiftly approaching.

“Kaede-chan, do you ever think about the kind of person you’ll fall in love with?”

The question comes unbidden. It’s almost shocking against the backdrop of silence.

Typically, Kaede would carefully consider her words, measuring them with all the caution of a baker measuring his ingredients. She would craft an elegant and becoming reply fitting of her learning.

Yet, her mouth — and her words — have gone alarmingly dry.

“I-I don’t think so, no,” she admits, eyes darting around. Out of her peripheral vision, she can see Kirumi frown ever so slightly.

“Really? That’s a shame.”

※

“Oh, Kaede-chan,” Kirumi says wondrously, running her slender fingers through her hair. “It looks just as good as I thought it would.”

“Th-Thank you,” Kaede stammers. A jolt strikes every nerve ending at the sensation of her lady’s fingers on her scalp. She isn’t sure if she likes this or hates this.

“Ah, see? We look alike now.”

Kirumi withdraws her hand and places it on Kaede’s shoulders before turning them both towards the mirror. Kirumi’s hair, while light, shines with hints of brunette. Kaede’s hair is more golden in tone. Nevertheless, they do indeed look more similar than Kaede even expected. It’s jarring.

It’s wonderful.

※

Kaede has always seen the cracks and crevices in her lady’s soul. All the pedigree, fine upbringing, and prestigious parlance in the world cannot conceal an innate indolence and sense of deserving.

Yet, undeterred by her own hamartia, Kirumi goes on, ensconced in the velvet embrace of privilege.

And Kaede follows — not unlike a shadow chasing the light.

※

On this particularly chilly February day, Kenjiro Toujou calls them both into his office.

“What did you want to speak to me about, Father?” Kirumi asks, hands clasped together at the level of her waist.

“I’ve been giving it some thought, and I believe it’s time for you to learn to work with your peers.”

Kaede swallows and averts her gaze toward the bookshelf. She knows she must be here at her lady’s side — nevertheless, she feels like a ghost next to the two of them. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Kirumi waiting expectantly for her father to continue.

Kenjiro looks down at a paper on his desk before his eyes flicker back up toward his daughter — and then, strangely, Kaede. She abruptly turns her head to face him.

“You’ll be taking the entrance exam for Seien Girls’ High School next week,” he announces. He looks at Kaede, and something is different in his facial expression as he addresses her. “You will, too.”

“Next week?” Kirumi sputters.

Kenjiro frowns. “Yes, next week. If your education has been of any worth, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Kaede can see the gargantuan effort Kirumi is expending to regulate her facial expression. She’s more in tune with her mannerisms than Kenjiro is, she thinks dismally.

“I understand, Father. Thank you for letting me know.”

The thin, invisible live wire suspended between Kirumi’s eyes and her father’s is enough to make Kaede wring her hands.

“Very good. You’re dismissed.”

Kirumi turns deftly on her heel — never once casting her gaze toward Kaede.

※

“I feel so nervous,” Kirumi laments as they make their way toward the train station. The Toujous’ chauffeur has been ill for some time; thus, they’re left to make the trip to Shizuoka using public transportation.

“Why?” Kaede asks, eyebrows knitting in concern.

“What if I don’t pass?”

“That’s just impossible, Toujou-sama. You’ll pass with flying colors,” she insists. She conjures the will to smile.

Kirumi mirrors it, though it’s more characteristically discreet and genteel — and then, of course, there’s that one thing, that one trait that Kaede simply cannot place.

“You’re so kind, Kaede-chan,” she lilts.

Her cheeks feel hot.

(She didn’t say “what if _we_ don’t pass.”)

※

Their worries were for naught: they were both accepted. Kaede ranks #34, whereas Kirumi ranks #37.

Her lady doesn’t speak to her the entire day.

※

Kaede studies the boarding school for hours in the days leading up to their departure. She isn’t particularly excited — at least, not in the same way Kirumi is — but she needs to be prepared for any questions she might have or anything she might need. By the night prior to their travels, she can visualize the school’s layout when she closes her eyes.

Dread, thick and frigid, undulates over the contours of her body.

※

They wake up before the sun rises on the day of their departure. Kaede rubs her eyes and descends the staircase to bring their belongings outside for the chauffeur to collect. Kenjiro Toujou is nowhere to be seen as Kirumi joins Kaede downstairs.

“Are we going yet?” she asks, stifling a yawn.

“Just a few minutes, I believe.”

The chauffeur motions that they’re ready to leave. Kaede looks around discreetly, scanning for signs of Kirumi’s father. There are none.

She almost asks, but manages to stops herself.

The trip takes slightly under two hours with few words exchanged during that time. Kaede fights the urge to doze off with everything she has.

As the school comes into sight, Kirumi’s eyes widen with the promise standing before her.

※

Kirumi weaves herself seamlessly into the fabric of the school. Kaede doesn’t talk much with others, and the opportunities to do so are scant given her constant presence by Kirumi’s side.

Kaede doesn’t make friends. When she considers it, she never has.

Friendship is optional though, and she never feels lonely when Kirumi’s arm brushes against hers as they retire to their dormitories for the night.

A feeling, ineffable and disarming, grows and blossoms in her chest. (She only wonders when it took root.)

※

Yet, Kaede fails to conceal the effects of the incessant anomie that assails her day after day in this school. It apparently begins to show on her face, as Kirumi confronts her after their classes are over for the day.

“Why do you look so sad?” Kirumi asks with a scowl.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Please don’t worry about it,” she replies, failing to meet her eyes. “I suppose I just...have a difficult time feeling as though I belong here. But I’ll be fine.”

A significant period of silence passes before Kirumi’s hand briefly — ever so briefly — hovers above Kaede’s shoulder before withdrawing.

“Perhaps I haven’t expressed my gratitude as often as I should,” Kirumi mutters thoughtfully, touching a finger to her lip. “It upsets me to hear that you feel that way, Kaede-chan. I find it difficult to think of a life without you.”

Kaede swallows hard, if only to fend off the tears threatening to pool in her eyes.

She, once a paragon of inhibition, commits the egregious sin of stepping outside of herself as she cups Kirumi’s cheek and softly presses her lips to hers.

Almost as soon as she initiated it, she ends it, pulling away swiftly. Kaede’s knees buckle, her stomach turns, her thighs quiver — she sees stars.

“Toujou-sama,” she gasps, “I’m — I’m so sorry. I’m truly sorry.”

Kirumi’s eyes are wide with bewilderment, but there’s a distinct flush in her cheeks.

Kirumi takes her hand and briskly makes her way into one of the empty unlocked classrooms. She drags Kaede inside before turning the lock. The windows face away from the sun; it’s dark, but she makes no motion to turn on the light.

“What are — ”

Kaede isn’t granted the opportunity to finish as Kirumi pins her to the chalkboard and slides her lips against hers, frenzied and desperate, with no consideration and no love.

Kaede can taste blood when she flicks her tongue across her own bottom lip.

Kirumi takes Kaede’s wrist again and drags her over to the desks.

“Sit.”

Kaede sits.

“Lie down.”

Kaede lies down.

Kirumi hikes Kaede’s skirt up above her hips, exposing her underwear. Kirumi presses two slender fingers against her and raises her eyebrows — presumably at the wet sensation.

“How long have you wanted this?” Kirumi asks, and it’s clear that she does not expect an answer. She wastes no more time on teasing and yanks Kaede’s panties down with no trace of grace. Kirumi laughs softly and moves closer until Kaede can feel her breath, hot and tempting. “I suppose that doesn’t matter, does it?”

Kirumi wraps her lips around her clit, circling her tongue around the bead of skin, and sinks her soft fingertips into Kaede’s thighs. Kaede’s senses are saturated with the scent of Kirumi’s perfume, the small shocks traveling along her nerves, the sight of her lady degrading herself like this. Her mind swims with the stimulation as she subconsciously wraps her legs around Kirumi’s neck.

Kirumi moves away from her clit and down toward her lips. Her gaze flickers up to meet Kaede’s as she experimentally drags her tongue across them before licking them in broad, wet strokes, occasionally sucking her inner labia. The pleasure is almost painful; Kaede grips the edges of the desk with such ferocity that her fingers ache.

“Toujou-sama,” she whimpers, hips twitching in Kirumi’s direction.

“You want more, don’t you?”

Kirumi’s voice is low and tantalizing — it makes Kaede’s clit ache even more. For an evanescent moment, Kaede wonders if she’s done this before.

“Yes,” she whispers breathlessly. Kirumi rises from her position and moves toward Kaede. The sight of Kirumi’s lips and chin glistening in the low yellow light exacerbate her utter frustration at the cessation of sensation.

“Kiss me,” Kirumi commands, and she doesn’t wait for Kaede to accede before doing so herself. She clumsily pushes her tongue past Kaede’s lips, forcing her to taste herself, before dragging her teeth across Kaede’s bottom lip and pulling away.

“My turn now.” She hoists herself up on the opposite desk and makes quick work of pulling off her underwear (black lace, Kaede notices) and pulling up her skirt. When Kaede fails to move closer, she frowns. “What’s wrong, Kaede-chan?”

The endearment snaps her back to reality.

“I — I’m just worried I won’t be able to...p-please you,” Kaede stammers, nonetheless moving toward the level of Kirumi’s hips.

“You worry too much. You always do,” Kirumi coos in response.

Placated somewhat, Kaede flicks her tongue out tentatively, allowing the taste to situate itself on her lips. It’s salty and pungent, but not in an unpleasant way. On the contrary, it makes her mouth water and her fingers quiver with barely restrained desire.

Kirumi runs her fingers through Kaede’s hair before gripping it roughly and pulling her closer to her unshaven pussy, prompting Kaede to cry out from the abrupt introduction of pain.

“Right there — don’t breathe,” Kirumi demands. She wraps her legs tighter around Kaede’s neck and brings her thighs closer together, further restricting airflow. “Keep going.”

Kaede’s heart beats wildly against her ribcage like a butterfly in a bell jar as she quickens her pace. She hardly notices the sting of tears of asphyxiation pricking at the corners of her eyes.

“I’m going to cum,” Kirumi says lowly, and it sounds as much of a warning as it does a promise.

Kaede laps feverishly at her pussy, momentarily forgetting herself and sinking her fingertips into the soft, pale flesh of Kirumi’s thighs.

For a moment — a fleeting moment — she can pretend that someone loves her.

An unadulterated cry escapes Kirumi’s throat as she grinds herself against Kaede’s jaw. The sudden influx of wetness coats her chin, and she can’t stop the small noise of surprise from escaping her (occupied) lips.

Kirumi goes limp against the desk surfaces for a solid minute. Kaede reluctantly pulls back, making every attempt to regulate her breathing with limited success. After a painstaking amount of time and silence passes between them, Kirumi pulls up her panties and hops off the desk — a wolfishly satisfied smile adorning her lips.

“That was...incredible.” Kirumi runs a hand through her hair and gazes down at Kaede before leaning in and planting a firm kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, Kaede-chan. I’m going to go to the bathroom.”

She does so, leaving Kaede alone in the suddenly too-large classroom.

Kaede’s knees knock against one another as she hobbles back to her room, spurning the concerned glances of her classmates.

(When she wakes up the next morning, she feels something damp against the side of her face.)

※

Kirumi regards her differently — the evidence is in her eyes. For all her years of knowing the young lady, Kaede can’t place whether this change is good or bad.

“Toujou-sama, is something wrong?” she asks one day after their advanced algebra class. They make their way down the expansive hallway, the nascent spring sunset filtering through the trees outside and scattering across the linoleum floor of the corridor.

Kirumi looks at her and furrows her brow.

“No, why?”

They reach the end of the corridor. The sun, no longer obfuscated by the trees, shines painfully in her face, causing Kaede to squint.

She can’t tell her the truth, but it was never in her nature to lie.

“It just seems as though you’ve been acting a bit different lately,” Kaede admits. She clasps her hands at the level of her heart and stares absentmindedly at the floor.

Kirumi giggles. “I think you’re just imagining things. Although we have been a little busier with midterms approaching, I guess.”

“Right. Of course. I apologize for being paranoid, Toujou-sama.”

“It’s quite all right,” Kirumi replies.

Kaede bristles.

Her apology was perfunctory.

※

As she gathers their belongings in preparation for returning to their dormitory, Kaede overhears Kirumi talking to a group of girls in their class.

“—Okay, but would _you_ apply, Toujou-san?”

“I think it’d be an interesting challenge,” she responds thoughtfully. “I don’t believe my father would approve, though.”

“Would that stop you?” interjects another girl.

Kirumi snickers. It’s an unbecoming sound for her, Kaede thinks.

“Of course not.”

※

“What were they asking you about, Toujou-sama?” Kaede inquires as they eat their lunch the next day.

“Oh, you know that television show? The one with the killing game.” Kirumi looks out the window and takes a small bite of her rice. “ _DanganRonpa._ ”

“I see.” She can feel the color draining from her face.

Silence passes between them; she’s lost her appetite.

“I don’t mean to offend you, but what would be your motivation for doing something like that?”

Kirumi’s eyes are the color of knives as she looks directly into Kaede’s.

“Because I know I’d win.”

※

Kirumi acts increasingly distant and Kaede becomes increasingly desperate.

The teacher is going over English subjects and predicates and it fails to penetrate. The vision of that glimmer in Kirumi’s eyes after they committed the act, her face tinted orange by the sunlight, leaning over the desk —

and now Kaede turns to her, and her eyes hardly flicker in her direction.

She wants to believe that she’s simply not paying attention; she knows better, and when Kirumi asks for her notes later that night, there are no surprises.

※

Kaede makes her way over to homeroom with her lunch. She scans the vicinity and spots Kirumi sitting in the corner with three other girls.

“I’m back,” she declares, looking for a nearby desk to sit in.

The girls exchange inscrutable glances. Kirumi turns around and looks up at her.

“I’m going to be sitting with my friends today,” Kirumi announces.

“Oh. I see.”

“I don’t think you’d be very interested in what we’re talking about, Kaede-chan. Why don’t you talk to some other people in our class?”

The words aren’t unkind. Yet, Kirumi’s sharp gaze, the subtle smirk on her lips, the tension suspended in the silence among the quartet —

“I understand, Toujou-sama. I’ll see you in the dormitory,” she bids, knuckles white from the iron grip on her bento bag.

“Wait, wait.” Kirumi motions for her to stay in place. She does.

(It’s hard to tell whether her heart skips a beat or if that’s simply her stomach lurching with anxiety.)

“Yes?”

“Don’t call me that in front of my friends. It’s strange,” Kirumi says.

She turns her back.

※

Right before the beginning of class, teacher informs her that her mother has arrived at the academy and has requested to see her.

Kaede clenches her teeth and shudders. She turns to Kirumi.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Kirumi nods without averting her eyes from the board — an odd behavior, Kaede thinks with the quirk of her eyebrow. If she had heard of Kaede’s mother arriving, she would typically be similarly alarmed.

Kaede makes her way to the front office of the main building, her dread accruing with each and every step, until she’s reached her destination. Her mother is standing just before the double doors leading into the school.

Her face is red and stained with tears.

Time seems to dissipate and melt into the ground, but she continues to make her approach.

“M-Mother,” Kaede croaks. “Why are you here?”

“Pack your things, Kaede.”

She freezes in place just a few inches away from her mother.

“Excuse me?”

“Pack your things,” she repeats simply.

“I don’t understand,” Kaede says with an increasing sense of panic. “What’s happening, Mother?”

“We’ve been...dismissed.” Her mother’s lip trembles.

The first words out of her mouth do not address the obvious question of “why.”

“I can’t leave Toujou-sama.” Her breathing is quick and shallow as she leans against the wall and seeks purchase to stop herself from crumpling to the ground.

“Kaede,” her mother sobs, wiping gingerly at her face with a (perfectly manicured) finger. “Please. We have to leave.”

She can hardly speak as her mother turns away to look at the wrinkled piece of paper crushed between her hand.

Kaede says the only thing that comes to her mind.

“I didn’t do anything!” she pleads.

Her mother turns to her — her violet eyes, so similar to her own, glisten with unshed tears.

“I know, Kaede. I know.”

※

They move into a reasonably middle-class section of the city. Her mother works as a housecleaner, but the savings from their former lives keep them comfortable.

Kaede never asked her mother what the circumstances behind their sudden dismissal were. Likewise, her mother never volunteered the information.

Today, Kaede goes to the high school the next ward over to hurriedly take the entrance exam. She’s made peace with the fact that her future is grim — something that ameliorates her tattered nerves.

She writes her name at the top of the paper — it’s an automatic action, but she doesn’t recognize the characters.

It’s the same feeling she gets when she looks in the mirror these days.

(Vicious thoughts simmer deep inside her, releasing a steady poison into her cortex.)

※

Countless nights of intermittent sleep have given her ample time to digest the past three weeks of her life.

She — contrary to whatever Kirumi believed — is not a vacuous servile vessel.

When the night reaches its nadir, she slips out of bed and saunters over to the papers on her desk.

Gingerly, she plucks a pen from its place by the lamp.

※

Kaede still bleaches her hair.

※

She stumbles into the train directly after school and taps her foot impatiently as she hangs on to the belt above her. It takes eight minutes to arrive at the ward where the TV station is.

She runs, bag in hand, gripping her proof of callback.

Panting furiously, Kaede finally arrives and follows the posted directions toward the audition room. It’s empty — she breathes a sigh of relief. She takes a seat and checks her phone every minute, aching for it to inch closer to her scheduled time.

“Kaede Akamatsu?”

A young woman, dressed sharply in a white blouse, black skirt, and black kitten heels, emerges from the door. Her long midnight blue hair reaches down to the backs of her knees and leaves Kaede speechless.

“Y-Yes, that’s me,” she sputters.

The woman smiles.

(It reminds Kaede of something else.)

“I’m so glad to see you. Come back with me.”

She rises to her feet in trained obsequity and approaches the woman, who opens the door and beckons her inside. The audition room looks like a gymnasium studio with bright lights and a mirror wall behind a single chair and a desk.

Kaede tentatively takes a seat in the chair as the blue-haired woman strides over to the desk.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions to get to know you better, Akamatsu-san,” the woman says in a singsong voice. It reminds Kaede of wind chimes.

“Okay.” Kaede’s hands ball up into fists in her lap.

“Why do you think you’d be successful at the killing game, Akamatsu-san?” the woman asks sweetly.

“I think I have the personality it takes to win. I can’t bring myself to trust people,” she replies, doing her best to maintain her smile.

“That would certainly benefit you.” The woman jots down some notes before looking back up at her. “Why do you have a hard time trusting people?”

The thick black haze of loathing snakes up her limbs and coils around her. The smile fades.

She can’t stop the name from spilling from her lips.

“Kirumi...Toujou...”

“Pardon me?”

“N-Nothing. I was just talking to myself,” Kaede mumbles.

“I think I heard a name. Did you say ‘Kirumi Toujou’?”

She blanches. She’s crossed the Rubicon, it seems.

“Yes. That’s what I said.”

The woman’s face is alight with intrigue. The sparkle in her deep blue eyes is inexplicably discomfiting.

“Why don’t you tell me more about that? We love hearing more personal stories from our contestants,” she urges, eagerly tapping her pencil against her clipboard.

Kaede isn’t sure she wants to share, but she feels the black haze slither up her back.

“I’m sure you know of the Toujou family.”

“I do. Piano makers, yes?”

“I was the servant for the youngest daughter — ” ( _‘servant’ is such a harsh word in this day and age_ ) “ — and things happened between us.”

The woman raises her eyebrows, interest thoroughly piqued, but she apparently catches on to the fact that Kaede isn’t going to disclose the events that transpired. A small (and vaguely sinister, although Kaede is likely just imagining things) smile spreads across her lips.

“I see. Tell me how you feel about that, Akamatsu-san.”

Now that she’s been goaded, she can’t stop.

“I hate her.” It comes out as a low whisper, rough and resentful.

Her volume rises steadily as she speaks, each word laced with an increasing amount of poison.

“I hate her for what she did to me. For what she did to my family.”

The woman nods, her smile having grown into a full grin. Kaede balls up her fists even tighter in her lap. The black haze chokes her.

“I hate her. If I get chosen, I want to be the one to show everyone what a fraud she is. I want to kill her myself.”

“I’d like to hear how you’d do that.”

“I — I haven’t thought that far ahead. But I want it to be — what’s the word? Anticlimactic. I don’t care if I die. I know I’m not smart enough to be a good murderer,” Kaede admits with no less abhorrence in her tone. “But if I’m going to hell, she’s coming with me.”

The woman stops writing and her eyes widen. Fear brews furiously in Kaede’s chest.

“Give me one moment, please. Stay right there — don’t move,” the woman urges, setting her pencil down and rising from the chair and scurrying out a door to her right.

Kaede wrings her hands and catches sight of a camera right above the desk. She can’t imagine she looks very good right now.

The door opens and the woman returns looking just as ebullient as she did prior to leaving.

“I think you’ll be very happy with the ideas we have for you, Akamatsu-san,” the woman chirps. “I hope you’re excited, because we certainly are!”

※

Her mother is already gone for the day when Kaede wakes up for school. Blinking blearily, she dons her uniform and descends the staircase. She goes through the motions of her morning — she waters the plants, double checks her bag, pointedly walks past the kitchen. She rarely eats breakfast now.

She steps outside — the sun approaches the apex of the sky slowly but steadily. The final step is checking the mail, which Kaede dutifully does. She reaches into their modest mailbox and feels around for anything. There’s only one item — a large, smooth envelope. Kaede’s stomach churns.

She displaces it from the mailbox and inspects it.

_DanganRonpa._

A weight’s been lifted off of her.

She runs back inside and tears open the envelope, dumping its contents on their kitchen table. Her eyes quickly scan the congratulatory letter from Team DanganRonpa before moving on to the important information — the dates, the location, the procedure. There’s one last thing she searches for, and it’s all the way in the back of the folder.

Terrified, Kaede plucks the sheet containing her name tag from its place.

_Kaede Akamatsu, Ultimate Pianist._

Gravity is more palpable than it’s ever been as she trembles and falls unceremoniously into the chair.

Kaede laughs — she laughs, unabashed, unrestrained, unfettered.

※

Kaede doesn’t tell her mother. After all, she was complicit until the very end — Kaede owes her nothing. The vacuity in her heart lightens her burden and puts a spring in her step as she begins the journey from her house to the location specified in her folder.

The tips of her fingers tremble as she arrives at the ominously clinical building.

The receptionist tells her to enter the second room on her right. Donning a mask of false confidence, Kaede strides down the hallway. She was warned not to speak to anyone in the other rooms, but she can’t help but glance at each of them — the contestants behind the doors are slightly visible through a small window.

She comes to a stop when she sees her in the room directly across from hers. It’s faint, but unmistakable — that luxurious flaxen hair, groomed to perfection — that smile, brimming with decorum and spite.

Kaede grins.


End file.
